Q is for Quixotic
by Cleo the Muse
Summary: The best part about being on SG-1—even better than collecting treasure—is getting to be the hero!


**Q is for Quixotic**  
Older Kids  
Genre: Gen, Friendship, Humor, Team  
Warnings: None  
Timeline: Season Ten, before "Memento Mori"  
Synopsis: The best part about being on SG-1—even better than collecting treasure—is getting to be the hero!  
Notes: Tasty letter claim for Fig's Vala Alphabet Soup

* * *

"We should have horses!"

Cameron spun around, looking as though he hadn't a clue what I meant. "Horses?"

"White ones, specifically," I clarified, letting him know by my expression how serious I was about the lack of equine transport. "How can we honestly consider ourselves to be on a rescue mission if we don't have white chargers?"

The "alleged" leader of SG-1 continued to give me a look of utter confusion. "How the _hell_ did you come up with that?"

"Don't be silly, Cameron, there are numerous documented examples of damsels in distress being rescued by knights riding up on white chargers. Of course, Samantha's the only damsel currently in distress, but we shouldn't let a mere technicality stand in the way of us and our daring rescue of her and Daniel."

"Vala... we're not going _anywhere_ until Teal'c gets back with reinforcements."

"By which point any manner of terrible things could have happened." The Tau'ri were terribly innocent to the dangers of the galaxy. One would think that a people capable of producing such an incredible variety of books, television shows, and movies would be capable of imagining all the potential horrors which might befall the unwary or unprepared, but they continued to astound me with their naivety.

"Like what?" Cameron asked. Almost immediately, he held up his hand in an attempt to forestall my reply, exclaiming, "Wait, wait! I don't want to know!"

Nonsense, I thought to myself, figuring that if he'd uttered his question in the first place, then he most certainly _did _want to know. "They could have been captured for hosts, could be being tortured for information, could have been taken as slaves—surely you've noticed that Daniel and Samantha were scarcely beaten with an 'ugly stick', I believe you call it—though I must say they're both considerably older than is typical—"

"Vala!"

"—for the average sex slave, but I'm sure tastes _do _vary from place to place... though I heard once—"

"Vala!"

"—about a certain world which actually had the ability to reduce the physical appearance of their captives to a level closer to 'teenage', thus enabling them to sell older slaves as though they were _much_ younger—"

"Yo! Mal Doran!"

"—than they actually were," I finished, grinning at him winningly. "The side-effects were unpleasant, I'm told. So... are we ready to ride off into the sunset?"

Cameron frowned. "Riding off into the sunset occurs at the _end_ of the movie, not during the resc—that's not the point!"

"Exactly! The point is, Daniel and Samantha need our help, and we're the _perfect_ people for the job." Honestly, for a man who claimed to be an "adrenaline junkie", Cameron could be every bit as boring as Daniel or Samantha in full-on scientist-mode.

"Sure we are," he agreed readily, "but only if we _wait for reinforcements_!"

I thrust out my lower lip a little, just to let him know how disappointed I was with his pig-headedness. "In my expert opinion, that might take too long."

"Your 'expert' opinion wasn't asked for," he growled.

"Given that rather egregious oversight on your part, you should thank me for offering it anyway." I shook my head lightly, letting him know how fortunate he was that I wasn't offended.

The stuffy bureaucrats responsible for ensuring I was monetarily compensated for my heroic efforts on behalf of the SGC had _insisted_ I be given an "official" title—one which reflected my contributions without revealing anything they deemed "classified" information. After much deliberation, they finally settled on something involving the words "tactical", "cultural", and "expert", and as an ascribed expert on tactics and culture, I was merely doing my best to inform Cameron of the possibilities, thereby doing the job they paid me to do. Of course, I'd also gotten them to pay me for the nine months I spent conducting "participant-observation cultural anthropology research" amongst the Ori's followers, and cinched the deal with a few more choice words from some of Daniel's most yawn-inducing textbooks. Words like "sociological perspective" and "cultural relativism" earned me a fat back-pay check, which went a long way toward purchasing my new wardrobe.

Of course, that had _nothing_ to do with the predicament in which my dear friends had found themselves, so it was with only a little reluctance that I returned my considerable brain-power to the matter at hand.

"Oh! I have an idea! _You_ stay here and wait for Muscles, while I do a little scouting ahead," I offered, walking my fingers through the air to demonstrate my intent.

Cameron closed his eyes and thumped himself on the forehead with a loosely-curled fist. "That's a _bad_ idea. What if you get captured? Instead of just rescuing _two_ people, we'll be rescuing three!"

"Nonsense!" I protested. "I'm far too clever to get captured."

"Oh, but Sam and Jackson aren't?"

That took me aback for a moment, but only a moment. Of _course_ Daniel and Samantha were terribly clever, but not so clever as me when it came to sneaking around and slipping past armed guards. Well, there _was _that time I accidentally tripped over an untied bootlace—terrible construction, if you ask me, especially when the Tau'ri have more useful fastening devices like zippers—and accidentally alerted some rather stinky ursine creatures to our presence. But those were neither armed nor guards, so I hardly think it counts.

"Of course they're clever," I replied matter-of-factly, "but Samantha-clever and Daniel-clever. If they were attempting to find their way out of a technological trap, for example, or an archaeological puzzle, then I'd have _every_ confidence in their abilities!"

Cameron snorted. "So if there was a challenge involving the need to _talk someone's ears off_, I'm sure you'd be more-than up to the task."

"I've never heard of anyone doing such a thing, Cameron, and while it sounds rather painful, I'm certain it would be an effective method for rendering someone incapable of hearing escaping prisoners sneaking past them. Should I attempt to 'talk the ears off' of the gentlemen down below?"

"No! I want you to _stay right here_!" he insisted, punctuating the last three words with a downwardly-stabbing forefinger. Interestingly, he was turning a rather attractive shade of crimson... or was that carnelian? I was never quite certain why the Tau'ri insisted on having so many different words to describe the same color.

"That's a _terribly_ inefficient use of our available resources," I reminded him. Once Muscles returned with reinforcements, we would _then_ have to conduct the necessary pre-rescue reconnaissance, thereby wasting time which should be spent carrying out the rescue itself.

"Who's the team leader again?"

"Oh, Daniel is, of course."

"What?" he exclaimed, wheezing a little. I briefly wondered if I should remind him that it was necessary to breathe regularly, but I dismissed that notion as being somewhat superfluous, given that he should know that by now.

"Well, 'officially' _you_ are, but you tend to just do what Daniel, Samantha, and Teal'c tell you to do, so I suppose you're more of a leader by proxy for whichever one of them is the expert on the particular situation. _And_, since I'm officially a 'cultural and tactical expert' or some-such, I hereby declare you my leadership proxy for carrying out my tactical expertise." Glad I'd worked it all out so neatly, I nodded my head and stood up to begin my scouting mission.

Poor Cameron looked positively apoplectic, and I was beginning to be concerned he might have some sort of health problem he'd failed to share with Muscles when our large friend inquired about our safety before departing for the Stargate. "Now just hold on a minute!" he roared, using a volume I considered to be greater than was probably wise, given the fact that we were _supposed_ to be concealing our presence from the same people who had captured Daniel and Samantha. "Your so-called 'cultural and tactical expertise' relates only to the Ori and their followers, _not_ bad-tempered, backwater barbarians!"

I crossed my arms, letting out a sigh of mild exasperation. "My expertise _also _includes the Lucian Alliance and the other dregs of galactic society, and these 'bad-tempered, backwater barbarians' are certainly scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel. Ergo, expertise applies."

"No, it doesn't!"

"Yes, it does."

"Doesn't!"

"Does!"

"Doesn't!"

"Guys!"

Startled by Daniel's voice, I turned around to see him emerging from the tree line along with Samantha, Teal'c, and SG-3. "Oh, that was fast!" I exclaimed.

"It was indeed," Teal'c acknowledged, dipping his head gracefully in Cameron's direction. "Everything went _precisely_ as planned."

Taking in the knowing grins being directed toward me, I was quite certain I knew what his plan entailed. "Oh, you're welcome, Muscles!" I exclaimed. "It wasn't easy keeping Cameron busy while you snuck in for the rescue, but I gave it my usual stellar effort." Snapping off a jaunty salute, I happily led my team back to the Stargate, satisfied with a job well-done.

Still, it was a shame we didn't have horses... _walking_ off into the sunset just wasn't the same.


End file.
